


Reacclimatizing

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Library, Overprotectiveness, Part Coda Part Original, Pre-Het, The Weeping Lady
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 13:10:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2509007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"You don't have to look over your shoulder all the time we're here, you know. We took care of Mary, she isn't coming back."</p>
  <p>Ichabod straightened slightly. "I find myself incapable of doing anything but."</p>
</blockquote><br/>Abbie and Ichabod go back to the library after the events of The Weeping Lady.
            </blockquote>





	Reacclimatizing

**Author's Note:**

> Because I wanted them to expand on their emotions in the show from the drowning and they never did. :( ;p
> 
> I do not own _Sleepy Hollow_. Thanks for reading!

Whilst the collection of artifacts in their round room, of sorts, were both extensive and helpful on most days, there were some cases where the lore didn't reach into Corbin's files. Those were the days where, amongst much irritation and some trouble on Ichabod's behalf, where they would then launch into a search through the many pages of the interwebs. When the vast yet unyielding power of a typing a word or series of words into a search proved to be, at times, not helpful, the next logical step was traversing to the public library for a spell of hands-on research.

Ichabod loved libraries. The first time he had set foot in Sleepy Hollow's library, he had lamented at how devoid of life it had felt. It was true. As Abigail explained, most people found what they needed on their computers or smartphones. Ichabod found himself longing for less of swiping a screen and more of turning pages beneath his fingers; the library was, and always would, better suited for him.

There was the looming fact, however, that the first time that he had set foot in Sleepy Hollow's library, his most valued companion had nearly been drowned on the floor of the previously revered building. He had, as had been proven in a poor show of handling his emotions, not been able to do so much as rouse Abigail from her unconscious slumber. He had been unable to pull her back from the brink of death, and his hands had shaken in the face of such a tragedy.

After the subsequent cardiopulmonary resuscitation lessons and a lot of chiding from Abigail that it hadn't been his fault, Ichabod had felt almost ready to begin to put the horrible happening to the back of his mind and forget about it, had it not been for the suddenly necessary trip back to the library in question.

The late sheriff's files were of no use to them for the current case. Even the wide world of the internet hadn't been satisfactory in aiding them to gather enough detail on their latest supernatural being. The trip to the library was necessary, and Ichabod was frankly loathing it.

He had no real right, he knew, being as it had been Abigail who had nearly drowned and not himself, but the tangible fear of the situation was still raw in his mind and the looming threat of danger vivid in his eager mind. Still, he could not let her go alone, so he had to swallow whatever misgivings he might have. A brave face for the Lieutenant was the best he could give.

Abbie stopped inside the doorway, and Ichabod fell into a rigid stance next to her. Her eyes darted around the library for a moment before she blew out a deep breath. "Alright, let's do this," she said, and started walking before Ichabod could respond.

Clearly, he wasn't the only one affected by the ordeal - just as he imagined. Naturally his partner would be just as nervous to come back, but she kept face nonetheless. Ichabod admired her for it, truly. She managed it far better than he, as he walked close next to her as they headed to the reference desk. He could still picture the spot where it had happened clearly, mostly because all he had to do was turn his head to the left and look from the corner of his eye. He did so, almost unconsciously, but all that remained of their escapade in the prior weeks was flooring and the table sitting only a few feet away.

Ichabod exhaled heavily through his nose. The motion went unnoticed by Abbie, who was looking for the material and the numbers they needed.

He was ashamed to say that he flinched shortly, when one of the attendants came up behind them to ask if they needed help finding anything. Here was a man stoic in the face of war, only to cower in a public library! It was only lessened by the fact that Abbie's hand twitched almost instinctively towards her gun.

"We're fine, thanks," she said, seeming to fake a smile before turning back to the reference catalogue.

Ichabod watched the attendant walk away. He unconsciously angled himself a step half closer to Abbie, choosing not to watch her work and instead surveying the rest of the library. She had her front; he would watch her back. He continued to do so, as Abbie found the reference numbers and then led the way to the section they were looking in - mythology, to be precise.

"What I don't understand," Abbie started, as she turned around to speak to him.

Ichabod, having made the mistake of walking too closely behind her, barely succeeded to halt before he could walk into her. "My apologies," he muttered, and forced himself to take a step back. "You were saying?"

Abbie looked up at him for a moment before smiling softly. It was genuine. "You don't have to look over your shoulder all the time we're here, you know. We took care of Mary, she isn't coming back."

Ichabod straightened slightly. "I find myself incapable of doing anything but," he said shortly. "Besides, I don't believe it would be good practice to not be aware of one's own surroundings. I refuse to make the same mistake that I did last time," he added, mostly to himself.

"Crane, _I_ told you to look in a different section. I'm the one who went off on my own because I didn't think I'd be attacked in a library."

"The rational mind would still believe that you would not be attacked in a library, but look what happened under that frame of mind the first time. You nearly died, Lieutenant," Ichabod said sharply.

Abbie opened her mouth, but then closed him. She analyzed him for a moment in a way that made him feel far too exposed before she relented. "I did," she agreed. "But then you pulled me out."

"After which Mr. Hawley saved your life," he replied, tone too dry for his own liking. He didn't plan on in it coming out so; his irritation at being so close and yet helpless was by far outstepping his slight dislike of the aforementioned man. Also, the way that this CPR was performed seemed both crude and inappropriate. Ichabod didn't like it one bit, and that was him performing it, much less a man who's intentions Ichabod had no real way of knowing besides the sour feeling settled into the pit of his stomach.

But he digressed; if Mr. Hawley had not been there, Abbie would not be _here_ now. Maybe the man that Ichabod had previously thought of as a delinquent was not as untrue as he had initially thought. In any case, he owed him, personally, for saving the life of his friend and fellow Witness.

"It's not your fault, Crane." The Lieutenant interrupted his thoughts. "You didn't know CPR until just last week. It's something we should have done months ago but I forgot to schedule a class for you."

"The blame does not fall on you, Miss Mills," Ichabod said.

Abbie raised her eyebrows. "Well, good that we're not blaming each other. Now that _that's_ settled!"

Ichabod couldn't help but smile ruefully at her tone. "I believe that we were looking for some books?" he ventured, hoping to steer the conversation back onto less chilling topics. The panic he had felt that day still loomed in the distance; he did not want to entertain it either here or ever again.

"I believe we were," Abbie replied, and turned to continue walking.

Maybe they weren't blaming each other, but it didn't stop either of them from flinching at every noise in the otherwise silent library. Ichabod tried to ignore how he reached for Abbie before he could stop himself, his fingers brushing the smooth exterior of her leather jacket before falling away. And he pretended that Abbie didn't just step slightly closer to him in the same moment, and that both of their hearts weren't pounding unhealthily in their ears.

"Right. Maybe we'll just check these out and read them at the cabin."

"That sounds wonderful," Ichabod replied quickly.

Yes, Ichabod loved libraries. He loved their quietude, their respect that people seemed to have toward them (although, somewhat more obsolete than in his age), the way that you could simply pick up a book and get lost in it with no one to disturb you. Libraries were peaceful. Except, his peace had been shattered the last time that the Lieutenant and himself were here. It would be awhile before he would be able to _not_ stand embarrassingly too close to Miss Mills while they were here together. Even if he came here on his own, he knew some part of himself would still be on high alert.

With Abbie's health on one hand and the lure of libraries on the other, Ichabod would pick Abigail without scarcely a thought. He could always read books on the... electronic tablets.

Ichabod held the door open for her on the way out of the library. Propriety dictated so, but it was also for piece of mind; once she was out the library, his proverbial hackles could be smoothed.

"Okay, Crane, I think you can stop watching my ass now," she teased, glancing over her shoulder. Her mood had considerably brightened, quite quickly, and much at the expanse of Ichabod's embarrassment.

"I was not-" he started, before he noted that Abbie was laughing at him. He huffed softly; his face was warm. "That is most improper, Lieutenant."

Abbie just laughed. "Come on, help me carry these," she said, gesturing to the books.

Ichabod strode forward, falling in step beside her as they headed back to the car. Abbie found great humor that the tips of his ears were apparently flushed, whilst he just shook his head in mock disappointment. He would much rather have this smiling, joking, while somewhat inappropriate, Abbie than the one that he had pulled from the water the last time they were here. As long as she could laugh, she could breathe, and as long as she could breathe, so could he.

 


End file.
